I finally threw in the towel on trying to sleep around 3 a.m. this morning. For some reason, it’s just one of those nights when it’s not going to happen. No-sleep nights don’t happen that often, but when they do, I really don’t mind it after I eventually give in and get out of bed. Actually, I find it rather peaceful to be awake when most of the world around me is asleep.

Then 4 a.m. hits and I get this automatic, tiny wave of excitement, followed quickly by another wave of sadness.

Lately, I’ve been longing to go back to place I haven’t been in a long time. I don’t remember the town, I don’t remember the name of the camp, and I don’t even really remember my age at the time. I was young – probably early high school, on some sort of church retreat. It was a weekend full of rest in the Lord and sitting face to face with His truth. I woke up early one morning, before the rest of the campers and I went and sat on a concrete stair outside of my cabin with my Bible. The sun was dawning, the grass was dewy, birds were chirping and the fog was settled around the camp.

And Jesus. Just Jesus. So clearly.

Jesus was there other days. But this morning was special. The position of my heart was ready to receive, and everything else was quiet – which made Him loud.… Read More ➟

It’s 5:45 a.m. and Brandon just handed me the cute coffee mug I convinced him I just had to have in order to stay motivated to blog last winter. After not blogging for three months, guilt wins the day.It just feels wrong to sip that $10.99 Francesca’s mug reading “Blogging Day” without really blogging, don’t you think?

Also, it’s bad when your opening paragraph is off-subject already.

Oh, wait no, I think I can make a Segway.

Blogging. I really do love it. I get to ramble through my insane thought processes and then the World Wide Web lets me publish them…for free. People from all 50 states, China, England, Mexico, Iceland – they ALL have access to my blog – because these thoughts are that good (currently my readership is more like my mom and my cousin, but the cousin is in Iowa so that’s a really big deal).

Oh yeah, my husband quit his job last week.

My dog, Izzy, sure is cute, but she isn’t the brightest pup in the land.

So when she saw a skunk at 11 p.m. last night, she decided it wanted to play.

Three peroxide, Dawn and baking soda bath’s later I’m pretty sure she regrets that decision.

Well, I’d like to think that, but let’s be honest- if given the chance, she’d probably go back for round two.

Want to know what is even better about my dog getting skunked? I didn’t realize she was sprayed until she had been in the house 10 minutes. When the putrid smell filled my nostrils after letting her in, I instead spent my time trying to figure out if the tenants upstairs were using Nair on their hairy man legs.

That gave Izzy plenty of time to lay on two couches, two rugs and the carpet in the guest room.

Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest things for us adults, aren’t they?

Trusting.

Forgiving.

Letting go.

Accepting.

Believing.

Relaxing.

I’ve found the older I get, the more complicated those things become. Shouldn’t it be opposite? Shouldn’t growing up and maturing mean getting better at this whole life thing?

But when I think about someone who is able to do all of those things well – trust, forgive, let go, accept, believe, relax…the first picture that comes to mind is that of a child.

A kid.

To be more specific, I think of the kid that was a part of the family next to me at the public pool last summer (side-note: the public pool is a miserable experience past the age of 13). This little boy, probably six, embodied many of these words within just a few minutes.

It all started when he and his little brother, maybe four years old, were taking turns jumping off the side of the pool into their dad’s arms. And by “taking turns” I mean the younger brother kept taking his turn and cutting off Johny (yes, I just named the older one Johny because, well, that’s just a classic kid name and it felt right).